


a thin line

by Arianna4President



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, M/M, also there are mentions of canonical deaths, i fell into a jamilton trashcan and i can't get out, i guess?, i mean it's sad in the middle but then there's an happy ending, i wanted to write something funny and somehow it turned into A Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 19:45:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7727470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arianna4President/pseuds/Arianna4President
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas Jefferson hates Alexander Hamilton.</p>
<p>It's a fact everyone knows, starting from their respective friends, to their college classmates to their teachers to probably even rocks at the bottom of the sea.</p>
<p>That's why Thomas is absolutely not concerned when Hamilton doesn't show up for classes on Tuesday morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a thin line

 

Thomas Jefferson hates Alexander Hamilton.

  
It's a fact everyone knows, starting from their respective friends, to their college classmates to their teachers to probably even rocks at the bottom of the sea.

  
That's why Thomas is absolutely not concerned when Hamilton doesn't show up for classes on Tuesday morning. He's not concerned, because he doesn't care, because he _hates_ him, hates that man and everything he stands for. And for once, he's gonna enjoy the peace and quiet in debate class without having to hear that annoying voice of his having an opinion on _every single subject_ , thank you very much. And by the way, it's all Hamilton's loss if he misses classes, and not Thomas'. Hamilton is the one who's gonna have to ask people for notes, so, _ah_ , sucks to be him.

  
That's what he tells James Madison, all of this springing organically from the one question his friend had asked, upon flopping down on the chair next to Thomas, which, for the record, was "…'Sup?".

  
James raises his eyebrows, but he mercifully doesn't comment on the length of his friend's outburst. "Maybe he's sick" he says instead.

  
Thomas scoffs. "Once he's come to class with the fucking flu, and he risked contaminating us all, so I don't think it's that".

  
James simply shrugs, but he has no time to answer, since professor Washington enters the class in that exact moment.

  
The lesson is - as Thomas expected - quieter than usual, but not as enjoyable as the previous have been. Thomas blames it on the topic (the importance of a strong financial system), and takes almost no notes. By the end of the class he might or he might have not doodled Hamilton getting eaten by a tiger though, so he thinks he hasn't exactly wasted time. He half thinks of showing it to him the next time he'll be in class, which, knowing Hamilton, will be too soon for Thomas' likings anyway.

  
But Thomas is wrong.

  
Hamilton doesn't show up for classes the day after, which is weird, because that kid is non-stop, and missing two days in a row is definitely not him.

  
"Do you think he's gonna come to class today?" he whispers to James, staring at the door, because maybe that asshole is just late and Thomas is worrying for nothing. Not that he's actually _worried_ or anything, because that would be stupid and disturbing.

  
"Who?" asks James, although Thomas has a feeling he already knows who is friend is talking about.

  
"Hamilton".

  
"I have no idea. Why do you care? I thought you enjoyed the peace and quite of this class without him".

  
"I _do_ " answers Thomas. "That's why I wanna know if he's coming or not, I don't wanna adjust myself to the peace and then he comes and ruins everything with his loud big mouth".

  
But with Hamilton's absence the quiet is granted, except for some jerk who keeps clicking on his pen rhythmically for almost the whole duration of the class. It's just when James snatches the pen from his hands that Thomas realizes the jerk had been him the whole time.

  
If the second day without Hamilton Thomas had been nervous, by the third day he's fidgeting.

  
"This quiet is _killing me_ " he half-whispers dramatically to James after only ten minutes of class.

  
His friend just rolls his eyes. "Why don't you go and check on him if you're so worried?"

  
"I'm not worried, I'm just bored" he specifies.

  
"Whatever" mutters James. "If go checking on him will make you stop clicking on pens or drumming your fingers on the desk, please just do it".

  
And that's why Thomas Jefferson finds himself in front of Alexander Hamilton's door after class. Which is actually ridiculous, since he hates the guy, but still. He knocks at the door before he can change his mind, almost hoping no one will answer, so he can go back to his dorm and pretend this never happened.

  
But he has no such luck. A Hamilton with very red eyes and a tired face opens the door, looks at him, and shuts the door again.

  
Thomas snorts, knowing this was a bad idea from the starts. He knocks on the door again, persistently, until Hamilton is forced to open up again.

  
"I'm not really in the mood to deal with you right now, Jefferson" he sighs, rubbing his eyes.

  
"I come in peace. Or well, truce" he corrects himself. Hamilton is really looking like shit, but he's not going to get carried away with sentimentalism.

  
Hamilton raises his eyebrows, inquisitive.

  
"I brought you the notes for the classes you missed" he improvises, although he suspects his friends might have already done that. And shit, it's not like he has taken notes anyway.

  
But either Hamilton is stupider than he thinks and believes the lie (possible), or he just doesn't want to stand at the door anymore (also possible), so he just shuffles backwards and let Thomas in, closing the door behind them.

  
Hamilton's room looks ridiculous. The part that belongs to his roommate, Aaron Burr, is incredibly orderly. His bed is made and his books are arranged on his desk by alphabetical order. Hamilton's side of the room, on the other hand, looks like a mess, much like the man himself. Therefore it's no wonder Thomas choses to sit down on Burr's bed, taking his notebook from his backpack and handing it to Hamilton.

  
Hamilton carefully starts leafing through the pages, his mind evidently elsewhere, but when he looks at where Thomas is seated he almost grins.

  
"I wouldn't sit there if I were you" he tells him. "Earlier when I was showering Theodosia passed by and well, I don't know what they did, but that white stain wasn't there before" he points at a spot very close to Thomas' hand.

  
"Gross" he grimaces, and crosses the room to sit next to Hamilton, who looks surprised by the proximity but says nothing about it.

  
"Why is there a doodle of me getting eaten by a tiger in your notes?" he asks instead, and Thomas mentally smacks himself for the weak excuse he had chosen to use.

  
"Okay, I'm not really here to bring you the notes" he admits.

  
"Really?" Hamilton raises his eyebrows sarcastically and Thomas already feels his patience grow thin. God, he hates him.

  
"I just wanted to know what was so important that you had to miss three days of classes in a row" he says. "Debate was too quiet without you and your ridiculous ideas".

  
His words make Alexander raises his eyebrows again. "Aww, did you miss me? That's something I'd never thought I'd hear from you".

  
Thomas punches Hamilton on the arm. "I was just _bored_ ".

  
"Sure you were".

  
"So?". Thomas wiggles on the bed, trying to find a position comfortable enough that allows him to look at Hamilton in the eyes. "What happened? Because, honestly, you look like shit. More than usual".

  
"And you're as charming as usual, Jefferson".

  
"Just tell me what happened and I'll leave you in peace" he insists, and okay, probably threatening isn't the best way to go about this, but it oddly seems to work.

  
Hamilton just sighs and hands him his iPad. The main screen shows an online newspaper, with the title ' _Another black kid shot by the police'_. As upsetting as something like this is, Thomas reasons that the death of a random person can't be the only cause of Hamilton's absence from classes.

  
"Did you know him?" he whispers, already knowing the answer.

  
Hamilton nods. "He is - he _was_ my childhood friend. He was - " he stops, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.

  
"They didn't even write his name in the article" mutters Thomas, horrified.

  
"John. John Laurens".

  
The silence between them stretches, and Thomas knows saying ' _I'm sorry_ ' doesn't change anything. He's been through that enough times already.

"I'm sorry" he says anyway. "For what it's worth, coming from me".

  
Hamilton shrugs, but he seems to appreciate the words. Then, as if something inside him snapped, he starts talking. "He was my first friend, you know? When I was in kindergarten he was the only one who could put up with me. We shared the same ideas, we would talk over each other all the time". He smiles sadly at the memories. "But then when we were fifteen his family had to move away and we just lost contact, I guess. But it didn't matter, 'cause those few times when we saw each other it was like he'd never left".

  
"Were you and him - " Thomas lets the question hanging, and Hamilton sighs.

  
"He's the first person that I ever... I mean, he's the only person with whom I ever done anything, if that's what you wanted to know".

  
Well, this is new. With all the rumors that floated around, he had come to think Hamilton was one of those people who couldn't keep it in his pants.

"And the thing is - " Hamilton keeps talking. " - We haven't seen each other in almost two years and just the other day I thought about sending him an email to tell him that I was thinking of dropping by and now he's _dead_ and I - " his breath is becoming erratic, and Thomas has no idea what to do. " - I am never going to see him again. I almost wish I had a warning, a signal, so that I could, I don't know, have done something, _anything_ ".

  
"Knowing someone is going to die is much worse that having that person taken away from you without warning" states Thomas, and for a second he almost wishes he hadn't knocked on Hamilton's door, that he had just stayed in his dorm, far away from all these topics.

  
"At least you can tell them you love them one last time" comments Hamilton, quietly. "That's what happened with my mum".

  
"But knowing a person you love is going to die kills you as well".

  
"Have you lost someone as well?" asks Hamilton, after a few seconds of silence.

  
"My - my high-school girlfriend, Martha" he answers, ans suddenly he's blinking furiously, trying not to cry. Fuck his idea to see how Hamilton was, fuck this conversation, fuck the entire day.

  
"You can cry, you know? I won't judge" offers Hamilton. "I mean, yeah, I judge you for a lot of things, but this wouldn't be one of them".

  
Thomas almost laughs, and wipes his tears with his sleeve.

  
"Can I ask how she died?"

  
"Leukemia" answers Thomas, and he knows what Hamilton is about to say before he even opens his mouth.

  
"I'm sorry" he says, and Thomas knows he means it. "I didn't know".

  
"Contrary to popular belief, I know what kind of topic are considered ice-breakers, and this isn't one of them, so not many people know".

  
Thomas's answer seems to surprise Hamilton. "Thank you for telling me, then".

  
"You're welcome".

  
"Do you ever think she was the one?" asks Hamilton.

  
Thomas shrugs, looking at the ceiling. "I don't think there's only one person right for us in our lives. But she was special to me, yeah".

  
"Was she your first?"

  
If someone this morning had told Thomas that he'd spend the afternoon sitting on Alexander Hamilton's bed answering questions about his dead girlfriend he would have laughed in disbelief. Or cried. Or probably punched that someone in the face. And yet, the oddest thing about all of this is that for once, he actually doesn't mind Hamilton's continuous blabbering. Talking about this with him almost feels... liberating.

  
"The first woman with whom I've ever done anything. And the last person with whom I've ever done anything until now" he adds as an afterthought, following Hamilton's reaction, who seems surprised but says nothing.

  
"It just... never felt right afterwards" explains Thomas, finally looking at Hamilton in the eyes, daring him to laugh.

  
"No, I know what you mean" nods Hamilton, earnest.

  
The silence between them stretches, and for once, Thomas understands perfectly what Hamilton - his rival, his nemesis, his frenemy - is thinking. He understands because he's feeling the exact same thing, the same urge and the same need to close that gap between them, hell be damned.

  
Thomas doesn't know who moves first (in the years to come he likes to think it was him, while of course Alex had to say the opposite) but suddenly they're kissing, the space between them by this point nonexistent, and everything else is a blur.

  
oOoOoOo

  
"Well" comments Thomas something like an hour later, laying naked under the covers on Alexander's bed, the both of them trying to catch their breath. "This is not exactly where I expected my afternoon to go".

  
"That's a bit of an understatement" mutters Alexander, snuggling closer to Thomas. "Maybe I should start skipping classes more often if this is the result. Or would you miss me too much?" he teases.

  
"I hate you".

  
For the first time in the whole afternoon, Thomas sees Alexander smile.

  
"Sure you do".

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Uhm, I don't even know, honestly.   
> Review?


End file.
